Elly entered into the hotel through a side door marked “Deliveries.” It was always both fascinating and sad to see the inner workings of a hotel. Elly walked down a damp cement hallway lit by flickering neon bulbs. Motivational posters lined the walls: “The customer is always correct!” “Are you clean?” “Lawsuits can be avoided!” Two giggling maids passed by Elly, pushing a large cart of dirty towels and clear bags of trash. A young waiter, a baggy sweatshirt draped over his uniform, walked by her, moving rhythmically to the music pumping out of his earphones, passing an exhausted older woman, who peered at Elly with a palpable sadness.
At the end of the hallway, Elly made a sharp left into a service elevator. It chugged to life, climbing the twenty floors up to the ballroom level. Finally able to take a breath, Elly hung her head. She had been so rude to Keith. Why had she been so rude? It gave a final shudder, and Elly clutched the railing in fear. With a screeching sigh, the doors slid open.
To Elly’s relief, Lucia was not on the other side of the door. Instead, she walked out into a bustling kitchen. Hispanic waiters rushed past her, carrying delicious-smelling trays steaming in the cool air and shouting rapid Spanish at each other. A long galley of stainless steel stovetops stretched out to her right, with chefs in white hats dancing around flaming woks and barking orders at nervous assistants. Huge push carts wheeled by Elly, filled with elaborate fruit tarts, their raspberries sparkling with crystallized sugar. Elly’s mouth watered. She realized that she was very, very hungry. Her stomach let out a loud and embarrassing groan. A passing chef gave her a quizzical glance.
“That wasn’t what you think!” Elly cried. “It was just my stomach. I’m hungry.” The chef, looking embarrassed, turned away from her and began talking in low tones to a prep cook.
“I only had some donuts today. Donuts and lemonade. That’s it.” You’re not making this better, Elly thought to herself. Stop talking. Find the reception. “Excuse me, can you point me towards the Grand Ballroom?”
The chef pointed to a silver door on the other side of the room. “Ballroom,” he said sternly, gesturing for her to move out of the way of three waiters carrying trays. Elly jumped to the side, narrowly avoiding getting Chicken Marsala dumped all over her. She scurried to the door and pushed it open. In mere inches, the entire world changed.
She had entered into a large hallway that skirted the Grand Ballroom. Peach marble floors stretched out in both directions. Suede chairs circled around glass tables on either side of the hallway, each with a gorgeous bouquet of pale pink peonies and seeded eucalyptus in a square glass vase. Elly smiled. Those were theirs– the girls had obviously been out here already. An entire wall of glass showcased downtown Clayton. Elly pressed her nose up against it. She could see her street from here, and if she looked hard enough, the tiny patio on her apartment roof. The cool glass felt good on her forehead. She looked up. Huge lanterns twirled on the ceiling, which was inlaid with thousands of mirrored mosaic tiles. A butler walked by her, a white cloth draped over his arms and his head held high. He bowed slightly as he passed.
“Madam.”
Did that guy just BOW to me? Did he notice I’m wearing an apron? She shook her head. This was lunacy.
Walking quickly now, Elly weaved her way through more hallways until she reached 30-foot-high cedar doors embellished with woodland murals that danced up the ceiling. What, are they keeping a dragon in there? Elly took a deep breath and pulled on the handle. Nothing happened. She pulled again, this time, harder. They were locked. So much for her grand entrance.
Elly pounded on the doors with her fists. “HELLO!!!! Hello??” Elly waited impatiently, pacing in a circle. Finally, she heard voices on the other side of the door. She slammed her hand against the handle.
“LET ME IN!” she yelled.
Snarky Teenager stood in front of her, gorgeous, even in her dirty apron. “Come in, we’ve been waiting for you. Wait until you see it.” She gave a happy grin, and it was so rare that Elly stepped back out of alarm. She followed Snarky Teenager down a long corridor. “How did the personal flower drop off go?”
“Pretty smoothly. We took the guys’ flowers first. That went…as expected.”
Elly was thankful for Snarky Teenager’s omission of information; the last thing she wanted to know about was how Aaron looked in his tuxedo.
“Sunny’s ex-husband was plastered already, very classy. He definitely hit on me while I was pinning him.”
“Poor Sunny.”
“I know, right? She’s like a pinnacle of elegance and he’s like the pinnacle of the perverted guy at the bar!”